And He Mastered Himself
by SeventeenSouls
Summary: Severus Snape comes to realise he must make a choice in the war against Voldemort
1. Chapter 1 - The Doe

And He Mastered Himself

Chapter One - The Doe

The cloaked figure appeared out of nowhere on a snow-covered hill and a bitterly cold night with a soft 'pop'. He looked around, cautiously. The trees pressed close together but hadn't stopped the snow from falling gently onto the ground and starting to settle. He hurried over to stand under the of a large and overgrown laurel bush where the thick canopy had prevented the snow from settling. He did not want to mark his footsteps in the snow and reveal his presence. His long black robes whipped around him by the strong breaths of wind that snaked through the trees and he drew his cloak tighter around him, already beginning to shiver.

For a few moments he stood, still as a statue. A drip running down the long, hooked nose and a sniff were the only signs that the man was alive. Severus Snape seemed to finally make up his mind, for he began to move through the trees, following a silvery glint in the distance. It sparkled and glittered, reflecting off the bright moon in the clear night sky above. He kept to the trees so that his presence would be harder to spot, though he silently cursed Dumbledore for requiring him to be so secretive and distant from Potter. It would, he thought for the hundredth time, be much simpler to reveal himself to the boy. Dumbledore himself had said that the Dark Lord feared the unknown and unexplained connection between him and the boy, that the Dark Lord would not use legilimency against Potter and, therefore, would never see Snape in Potter's mind. But Snape had promised to stay hidden.

He eventually came to a quiet, peaceful clearing in the trees where a small pool stood, frozen over completely. The trees surrounding the pool, stripped of leaves and looking ragged and daggered, seemed to Leena in towards the pool. It looked as though they longed for the refreshing water and were stretching out trunks and branches, eager for closeness. His breath rising around him in mists, Snape considered what to do. Need and valour, he thought to himself, pacing around the pool while the silent moon rose steadily over the clearing, need and valour. After several minutes pacing he stopped and looked at the pool. Need and valour. Dumbledore refused to give an explanation for the need of the sword, but it seemed the simplest way to induce valour, to make Potter dive into the icy waters to retrieve the sword.

Pulling out his wand from the inside of his robes, Snape pointed it at the surface of the frozen pool and said softly, "Diffindo."

The ice in the centre of the pool split with a loud crack. Snape watched the chunks of ice float away from the centre of the pool, leaving a gap in the icy water about a meter wide. He now reached for a much larger object from inside his robes, wrapped in a dark, protective cloth. He pulled the sword of Gryffindor out of the cloth and laid it on the ground. It too sparkled in the moonlight and for a moment, as Snape stared at the beautifully embossed handle and the words etched along the hilt, he felt a sudden sense of loss, of what might have been, of what should have been.

Dumbledore's words on the night of the Yule Ball came back to him, "Sometimes I think we sort too soon…"

Snape suddenly snapped out of his reverie with a bitter snort and, pointing his wand at the sword now, said commandingly, "Wingardium leviosa!"

The sword rose slowly into the air, dangling by the end of the hilt as though someone had tied a string around it. Snape directed the sword over the bank and towards the hole in the ice. He didn't want to drop it in case it hit the ice, regardless of all its magical properties. His tongue hanging out slightly due to concentration, he guided the sword down very slowly until the blade of the sword touched the water. The rest of the sword followed and in a matter of moments, it had disappeared from view and come to rest at the bottom of the pool. Snape let out a long, deep sigh. He had not been aware that he was holding his breath.

One last spell to cast and he could move on with the plan. "Glacius!" A jet of icy air came streaming out of Snape's wand and he directed it at all the cracks he had just formed on the surface. The surface of the water slowly began to freeze over again, removing the cracks and any sign that the pool had been tampered with.

Snape looked around him, the pool and surrounding forest was as empty as ever. Potter, Weasley and Granger were out there somewhere, now all he had to do was lure Potter in. He retreated a good distance from the pool, to a clump of trees where he could easily see what was going on but was almost impossible to be seen himself. Once he was sure he was well hidden, he drew out his wand once more and filled his mind with Lily Evans, her laugh, the brightness and fire in her eyes, every tiny detail that he loved about her and whispered, "Expecto Patronum!"

The silver doe burst from the end of his wand, casting a shimmering, eerie glow onto the dark forest floor. It was an achingly beautiful thing and Snape hated to see it as much as he yearned to see it, his closest and most tortured connection to Lily. He did not have to speak his intentions to the doe, it knew from his thoughts what he wanted of it, to find Potter and bring him to the pool. The doe looked at him for a second, blinked once and turned slowly away from him. Snape wanted to call out, to make the doe stay with him, but he mastered this selfish impulse and watched the light from the patronus fade slowly away into the night. He drew his knees up to his chin, pointed his wand at his robes and watched a stream of hot air warm the robes and send a circulation of hot air round the inside of his cloak. That would keep him warm until Potter arrived. He leant his head on the tree against which he was rested and waited.

Snape did not know much time had passed, he had even began nodding off against the tree, when something made him leap to his feet and peer through the trees. The doe's presence had alerted him. He could see her light growing again in the distance and his heart began to race with, what was it, excitement? Anticipation? A few seconds later he saw Potter, still a distance away from the pool. Potter paused, as if to speak to the doe but it vanished. The darkness that the forest was plunged into was only temporary, however, for Snape heard a whispered, "Lumos" float through the trees and a light appeared at the end of Potter's wand as he walked slowly towards the pool. He stood by the pool for some time, clearly deciding what to do. He had definitely noticed the sword; Snape was sure of it. He was impatient now. Potter must know what he had to do. Snape cursed silently as he watched Potter try to summon the sword with a spell. Potter had always been dim, the solution, the only way forward was obvious. Looking suddenly resigned, Potter placed his wand on the floor and began to undress. Snape kept his eyes fixed on Potter and the pool. He broke the ice with the same spell Snape had used, and after pausing briefly, jumped into the pool.

Snape stood, frozen in place, his heart racing as he watched Potter fighting the unbearable cold of the frozen water. Then, he dived, and the surface of the water went mad as Potter kicked hard to send him to the bottom. After a moment, however, the surface of the water began to calm, to regain its graceful serenity and marble-like surface. Snape began to sweat. Potter should have got the sword by now, what was he playing at?

What could he do? He couldn't let Potter drown and something must have gone terribly wrong for him not to have reappeared after at least twenty seconds. Snarling inwardly at what he had to do, of the gut-wrenching cold he would have to experience just to save the boy he hated Snape took a step out from behind the trees, towards the pool. Before he could take a second step, however, a figure had come flying through the trees, sprinting to the water's edge. Snape almost fell over in his haste to retreat behind the trees where he had been hiding and, in his haste, he snapped a dead branch lying on the floor and the figure looked up from the pool. From his bright red hair Snape could tell instantly it was Weasley.

"HARRY!" Ron shouted, his attention instantly refocused on the water. Looking wildly around him, he seemed to find no alternatives. He dived, feet first, into the pool and began thrashing around, his arms under the water, seemingly grappling with Potter. After a few seconds, Potter's black hair broke the surface of the water and Snape let out another long sigh of relief. As much as he hated Potter, he had to master his loathing of the family name. This was more important. The destruction of the Dark Lord was all that mattered now. He would have preferred for Potter to drown in the pool than face the dreadful end Dumbledore had been preparing him for all his life. However much he disliked the idea of sending Potter to his death like a lamb for slaughter, it was the only way to defeat the Dark Lord, at least according to Dumbledore.

He stood, watching Ron pull Potter out of the pool before flopping down beside him and bending over his chest. Confused, Snape leaned further out of his hiding place to see what Ron was doing. He was tugging at something around Potter's neck, it looked like a necklace with a small box on the end of it. Snape had not seen it when Potter was undressing as his back was turned away from his hiding place. After failing to pull it off or untie it, Ron pulled out his wand and muttered an inaudible spell. There was a flash of light and the chain of the necklace split in two, Ron grabbed the necklace and threw it away from the two of them onto the cold hard ground a few paces away before collapsing back to the ground. Both of their chests rose and fell sharply, taking in grateful lungs of the biting winter air and for a while the two boys lay, exhausted, unable to move.

Snape didn't know what to do. His mission was over; Potter had got the sword and could now use it to… to what? Dumbledore refused to say what the outlaws needed with this magical sword. He could easily disapparate now, while the boys were unaware, and they would never know. He'd return to Dumbledore never knowing what part he was playing in this greatest of wars. Yet again, a hatred rose up inside of Snape. The same hatred he felt when he ran to the top of the astronomy tower the previous year, as Dumbledore had pleaded for Snape to kill him. A recklessness overcame Snape. He had spent his life being careful, being precise, never letting his emotions get the better of him. Only by living such a life could he have fooled the Dark Lord into thinking he was faithful to him. Not today. Not now. He sat back down and waited for the boys to rise.

After a while Ron got up and walked over to the necklace. As he picked it up Potter also stirred and sat up. He heard the two of them talking to each other in quiet voices but couldn't hear the conversation from where he was hiding. His heart leapt into his mouth when Ron muttered something, pointing at the same time right at the spot where Snape was hiding. Panicking and fumbling for his wand, Snape cast a powerful disillusionment charm on himself just as Potter came running through the trees towards him. Snape stood motionless as Potter scoured the area around him. If he walked up to the tree he would walk right into Snape. He held his breath. Now that Potter was inches away from him, Snape could see clearly what the necklace was, for it was in fact a locket. A serpentine S stood out clearly against the dark metal clutched in Potter's pale hands. Snape would have been extremely interested to know what interest the locket was to Potter and the others, had his situation not been so precarious. Potter did not move any further towards Snape., however. He looked around at the ground that was mercifully clear of snow and turned back towards Ron.

That had been close. Now more than ever was the time to leave, to disapparate and get back to Hogwarts. But his hatred for Dumbledore's secrecy and his curiosity at what Potter was doing with a locket with Slytherin's mark on it compelled him to stay where he was. He had even forgotten the cold, so keen was he to stay with the boys and see what they were up to.

Potter and Ron had walked over to a rock and seemed to be arguing about something. Ron was backing away, the sword in his hand while Potter sounded as though he was trying to persuade him of something. Were they going to open the locket? Stab it? Destroy it? Did it have some connection to the Dark Lord? Snape crept out from behind the trees he'd been hiding behind for the last half an hour and walked between the trees closer to where the two boys stood, his disillusionment charm still making him almost impossible to be seen. He made sure to keep his distance and not trip or fall over twigs and branches.

"Please, just get rid of it, Ron."

Snape was close enough to clearly hear the conversation now. Ron was walking towards the stone, the sword grasped so hard in his hands that his palms were shaking. Potter had already placed the locket on the boulder's flat surface. Snape came to a halt, peering out from behind a thin and snow-covered ash tree. He kept his wand in his hand, just in case. He had no idea what would happen if they broke the locket but from the fear in Ron's voice and the desperation, the pleading in Potter's voice made Snape feel unnerved. He felt… was it fear? He paused in looking at the locket to think.

In his almost two decades of working as a spy for the Order he had felt and done many things. He had lied, spied, killed and manipulated to ensure his true intentions were never discovered. He had mastered occlumency in order that the Dark Lord would trust him and his information completely. He had felt horror, revulsion, and self-loathing at what the Dark Lord and Dumbledore had both asked him to do. He had not, however, felt fear. He was always totally sure of his actions, the reasons behind them and had rarely felt that his safety was in true jeopardy. Now though, a tremor of fear ran through him and he physically trembled. This was not right; he didn't want that locket opened. A sudden urge came over him to run out into the open and snatch the locket away from them.

Just as he fought the urge, however, he heard Potter whisper, "One… two… three…" and a hiss escaped him.

Snape fell back against the tree in horror as he heard the Dark Lord's voice emanating from the locket which was shaking and trembling on the rock.

"I have seen your heart, and it is mine."

Potter was shouting, Ron was standing, struck dumb with fear, the sword held loosely in his hand, and Snape lay on the ground paralysed. Could the Dark Lord sense his presence? Had he just made a catastrophic blunder in, for once, letting his emotions get the better of him? Just as he wondered what possible magic the locket could be imbibed with a sudden gust of wind rushed around the clearing and out of the locket blossomed two ghostly shapes, grey and smoke-like in quality. The bodies of Potter and Granger circled and taunted Ron while Snape lay helplessly on the ground. He could see Weasley's courage failing and silently willed him to raise the sword and stab the locket.

"Come on, Weasley, come on!" Snape muttered desperately. The noise of the wind, of the taunting parodies, of Potter's desperate pleading with Weasley to strike all drowned out Snape's voice. He could not believe what Dumbledore had asked of them, three teenagers alone in the wilderness on some secret quest and this is what they had to fight. The recent blast of fear he had felt when the locket had opened returned as the ghostly figures began walking towards Weasley, their bodies intertwining and shifting around in the wind. Weasley couldn't do it, Snape thought desperately, the sword was raised in his hand, but he looked defeated, distraught.

And then the shapes kissed, wrapping their arms around each other and a split second later the sword came slashing down onto the locket. A piercing scream wrenched the night apart and Snape covered his ears in an attempt to drown out the appalling, ear-splitting screech. He had to leave. He had overstayed his welcome far too long. Without a second glance back at the locket or the two boys Snape rose shakily to his feet and fled up the hill, his black cloak flapping around him like a great, monstrous bird. At the top of the bank Snape looked back at the two boys embracing and talking softly to each other. The Dark Lord, or whatever parody of image of him that lived inside the locket had, once more, made the mistake he would keep on making. In taunting Weasley about the love he clearly felt for the Granger girl, he had imparted in him a fury and rage that he did not previously have. That had been the Dark Lord's mistake when he went after Lily and it was his mistake here.

As a burning hatred for Dumbledore began to rise in his blood and he began to think of how loudly he would shout at the portrait of Dumbledore that sat above his desk in the headmaster's study, Snape turned on the spot and was gone in a swish of his cloak.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Mission

"Explain!"

"Severus, I-"

"No!" Bellowed Snape. He was incensed, the blood pumping through him rang in his ears. Striding furiously around the headmaster's office he said furiously, "Enough pretending, enough protection, enough safety, enough messing around! Tell me what that locket was Dumbledore. I don't care about secrecy. What did you ask Potter to do?"

Dumbledore's face was buried in his hands as he sat upon the splendidly painted chair, framed right above the headmaster's desk on one side of the office.

"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, almost placating, "You must understand how dangerous it is for for too many people to know about this. Each person who knows adds to the danger that Voldemort will find out what Harry and his friends are trying to do. If he finds out before Harry's finished his task then all hope will most certainly be lost."

Snape stopped pacing and turned to face the portrait, his face livid, breathing heavily. "I don't know what I saw in that forest, but it scared me like nothing else has in all my service both for and against the Dark Lord. That locket contained an evil of a kind I've never witnessed. And you told Potter to go after that object and destroy it?!"

"I did."

"This ends right here Dumbledore."

"You gave me your word Severus to follow my orders, to look after Harry, to keep the students safe, to-"

Snape let out a thin-lipped sneer, "Do you think I care, Dumbledore, about your 'instructions'? You're dead. I killed you. You're nothing but an image, a memory, safe in your painting where nothing can ever hurt you again. The portraits of headmasters and headmistresses are here to advice, not to order. These are my decisions now. Tell me everything about Potter and what you asked him to do."

Dumbledore gave a great sigh, the portraits surrounding the walls were all awake, attentive and silent. Armando Dippet was leaning forward in his chair and Dexter Fortescue was muttering to himself, shaking his head.

"Very well then, Severus. If you insist and will not be swayed I shall tell you. The locket that you saw Ron Weasley destroy… was… was a horcrux."

Snape did not speak. He had gone as pale as any of the Hogwarts ghosts and it felt as though someone had clenched his windpipe, preventing him from replying. His mind wandered back to the terrible, snakelike voice that spoke from the locket in the forest and the ghostly shapes that appeared to taunt and torture Weasley.

"A… a horcrux?" He repeated, faintly.

"A horcrux." Dumbledore nodded gravely. "One of seven that Voldemort created over the years of his rise to power."

"Seven?" Snape yelped, sitting down at the magnificently decorated chair behind the desk and leaning back, his arms resting on the chair's dark oak wood, stunned. Without looking at Dumbledore he asked, without honestly wanting to know the answer, "Is that the only one Potter has had destroyed?"

"No. The situation is far less perilous than you think, Severus. Harry has already destroyed one, and I another. You remember my cursed hand? The ring that I put on was a horcrux, and so more fool me for trying it on." Dumbledore's voice trailed away.

"You put it on knowing it was a horcrux, Dumbledore? Why?" Snape turned in his chair to stare at the old man, puzzled, "Brains like yours, you must have known what was going to happen."

A shadow passed across Dumbledore's face and he seemed to struggle over what to say next. Eventually he said, "You asked me to explain my instructions to Harry, Severus. Please allow me to finish and don't waylay the subject. You remember when I said that when the time comes you should impart certain information to Harry? About the snake Nagini and Harry himself?"

"Yes, I…" But Snape froze, the words half formed in his mouth. Understanding slowly dawned across his pale face and he looked suddenly horrified. "Do you mean to say, Dumbledore, that Nagini is a horcrux? And… and Potter?"

Dumbledore nodded again, paler than normal, looking more serious than Snape had ever seen him, in life or in death.

"It is the only reason that explains the connection between Voldemort and Harry, everything that has happened to the two of them over the last seven years. That is why Voldemort, himself, must be the one to kill Harry. If all goes well and Harry does not defend himself, Voldemort will destroy the horcrux alongside Harry and the task of killing Voldemort will fall to someone else."

Snape said nothing, but continued to stare at Dumbledore, waiting for more.

"That is why I implore you not to go seeking Harry, Severus. If Voldemort realises, in any way, that his horcruxes, his anchors to immortality are threatened, he will seek to protect them doubly, triply as they are now and Harry may never be able to destroy them. I spent time with him last year to impart all I knew about Voldemort in the hope he would be able to work out where and what Voldemort's horcruxes would be and be able to destroy them. Voldemort is somewhat predictable in his aims, his goals, his arrogances and his faults. But reveal that his lifelines are in danger and he will re-evaluate everything and make it almost impossible to find the other horcruxes."

"I don't care, I want to help." Snape said, startling even himself.

A murmour ran around the portraits. Snape saw Phineas Nigellus look up from his portrait where he had previously been looking rather bored and look enquiringly at Snape. Dumbledore himself seemed taken aback. The eyes behind the half-moon spectacles had widened.

"You want to help?" He asked.

Snape stood up and faced the portrait. "'It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be.' That's what you told Fudge the night the Dark Lord came back, wasn't it Dumbledore? Are those words false mutterings of an old and deluded wizard, or are they as true now as you spoke them three years ago?"

Dumbledore did not answer immediately. Snape looked into his face and saw that his dazzlingly blue eyes were bright and sparkling, and saw a tear running down the lined and wrinkled cheek.

"I did say that yes." Dumbledore spoke in barely more than a whisper.

"But you don't think I'm capable of change, Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore didn't respond.

"I knew from the moment I met her, that Lily was going to be in Gryffindor. I managed to convince myself that maybe, maybe she'd want to be in Slytherin, but I knew deep down that I was deluding myself. I was always bitter about why she couldn't change for me, why she didn't make more of an effort. I deluded myself. But no more. Does my love for Lily not show how warped the house system is Dumbledore? The moment we were separated the wall began to grow and grow and that is not fair.

"I want to help." Snape repeated. "I cannot sit in this office and pretend that everything is normal when I know what needs to be done, what must be done. You might believe that Potter is strong enough to carry out your instructions but I don't. He is weak, overly proud and blind to the help others might give."

"You have done enough, Severus." Dumbledore said, "Harry has the sword and I have complete faith in his abilities. Do you not notice he is not alone? Ronald and Hermione know Harry's impulses and know how to tame them and quell his hot head. They are as important to this mission as Harry is."

Snape sneered again. "Weasley is a buffoon, a sidekick, and Granger's a bossy know-it-all."

"You underestimate the students of Hogwarts Severus, you always have." Dumbledore said, with the shadow of a smile upon his face.

Snape turned his back on the portrait and headed towards the door beyond which the gargoyle stood guard.

"Where are you going, Severus?" Dumbledore said, a touch of suspicion and worry in his voice.

"For a walk. I am allowed to leave this study I presume Dumbledore? Or would you rather try to keep me prisoner here in my own office if you don't trust me."

Not bothering to wait for a reply, Snape opened the office door. As he disappeared down the spiral staircase and out of sight he thought he heard a small snigger coming from the shelf right next to the door. No portraits hung on that part of the office, only the sorting hat lay there, frayed and dirty.

Dawn was not far away as Snape strode down the torchlit corridors basked in the receding moonlight and the approaching dawn sunrise. He passed ghosts and prefects patrolling the corridors but bade them not a word or a glance. He did not consciously decide where to go, instead he let his feet guide him. Something had stirred in him since his trip to the forest, something that he thought or hoped would soon die down and be forgotten about. But no, it refused to go away, like a mosquito bite that itched and itched and itched. His mind kept returning to the moment he drew the sword of Gryffindor out of the cloth wrapping. He then thought with revulsion about the locket. It's design made him suspect that, just as the sword was an heirloom of Gryffindor, so the locket might have belonged to Slytherin. More than the itch, though, Snape felt as though some inner certainty that he had always had about himself had begun to slowly slip through his fingers. The hatred and indifference he had always shown towards others, inside Hogwarts and out, the pleasure he got from bullying students and seeing the fear in their eyes when he approached him seemed now to be an empty enjoyment. The thought of what Potter was doing, what he was risking, what he had accepted and yet still gone on to do caused Snape to stop where he was, standing next to a flickering flame in a bracket, his mind full of what he came to realise as awe.

Leaning against the smooth cold stone wall he thought back to his own sorting; watching with resignation as Lily danced off towards the Gryffindor table, looking over at the Slytherin table and seeing Lucius Malfoy watching him with keen interest.

He saw himself sitting upon the stool as Professor McGonagall placed the sorting hat over his head.

"Ah, another easy one." Said a small voice in his ear.

"No!" Snape thought desperately, "I don't want-"

"SLYTHERIN!" Shouted the hat to the hall at large and an instant later the sorting hat was lifted from his head. He had no choice. He moved towards the Slytherin table, unable to look back at Lily, unable to speak…

"Severus?" A tentative voice brought Snape back to his senses and his eyes snapped open. He looked around him. Minerva McGonagall was standing near the window, her face drained and tired, looking inquisitively at Snape. McGonagall looked unnerved at the disturbed expression on Snape's face and he quickly rearranged it to its usual unreadable smoothness.

"Yes?" He said in an attempt at his usual cold indifference.

"I thought… never mind." McGonagall had composed herself as well and seemed angry at her show of concern in Snape.

"Is it your night to patrol, Minerva?"

"Indeed."

The two teachers stood in silence, looking at one another. Then Snape said shortly, "Go to bed Minerva, you look exhausted."

He swept off before she could not reply, but not before he saw the look of confusion and surprise on her face. He continued to wander as the sky outside the windows became brighter and brighter until he found himself climbing some unfamiliar stairs and reaching an even more unfamiliar landing. Looking around him Snape saw that he was standing in a lavishly decorated corridor, full of rich tapestries and paintings, all of which seemed to feature much red and gold artwork. Snape froze. He looked down one side of the corridor, then down the other. His heart sank. There in the middle of the landing, perhaps the most decorated and elaborate painting of all, was that of an extremely fat lady dressed in a silk dress, staring at him with the keenest interest. He gave her a curt nod and she inclined her head in return. It was the first time Snape had seen the Fat Lady in many years. He never had cause to wonder this part of the castle before and the last time he had been-

"Not going to try to sleep under my portrait again I hope headmaster?" The Fat Lady interrupted his thoughts, smirking at him.

"Never you mind." He said rudely, scowling at her.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "There's no need to be rude. You haven't come to see me in a very long time headmaster. I miss our little chats, but I suppose you're a busy man nowadays."

Snape looked down at the spot where he had once lain, waiting for Lily to come out and see her, that dreadful day when he had broken their friendship irrevocably, mutilated it beyond repair. A wave of remorse came over Snape and he looked back up at the Fat Lady who seemed to read his thoughts.

"I always thought what you did that night was sweet, you know. I spent most of my evenings telling people off for coming back at ungodly hours of the morning, but I didn't have the heart to tell you to leave and go back to your dormitory. You seemed incensed, almost crazed."

Snape was breathing heavily, as if he had been running. "You know why I was there, Alice."

She nodded knowingly, "Oh, yes, headmaster. I know why you were sitting outside Gryffindor tower that night and most nights for seven years."

Snape strode up to the portrait until he was inches away from her smooth, powdered face. "Not a word, remember?"

The Fat Lady pressed a pudgy finger to her lips.

Snape retreated to the staircase and as he descended he heard the Fat Lady calling after him, "I haven't gone anywhere you know." He snorted to himself before climbing back down the staircase, heading back towards his office, his mind full, wondering where Dumbledore had kept the pensive.


	3. Chapter 3 - Punishment

It was late in the evening and Snape was bent over his desk, writing. The sky outside was pink, slowly receding to purple and then dark blue as the moon began its slow ascent into the summer sky. The portraits around the walls were all sleeping and the occasional grunts and snores only made Snape feel More exhausted as he poured over his parchment, his hooked nose inches away from the desk. The words he was writing were fleeting in and out of his brain like sand and he couldn't remember what he'd written a sentence without looking back. He had not been able to find the pensive and as a result his mind was spinning with all his thoughts, like the swirling, cloudy substance that lay in the mysterious bowl. His eyes ached with tiredness. It almost felt like he was studying for his N.E. again, he thought glumly, looking around for his goblet of water. He found it empty and rose slowly to his feet. As he walked over to the cabinet where the pensive stood to get the water jug, a voice spoke from behind him.

"You've changed, headmaster." A snide voice said. Snape had no trouble identifying the source of the voice.

"Why is it, Phineas," He said without looking up from pouring a goblet of water, "That whenever all the other portraits are asleep, you are the one who remains awake and alert?"

Phineas snorted, "I find that I can think more clearly when there is less chatter going on. After seventy-five years in this office, one does grow tired of the babbling after a while. You have this to look forward to."

Snape ignored him and returned to his desk, but Phineas continued in spite of Snape's clear reluctance to engage in the conversation.

"Has being headmaster somewhat mellowed you? I find that the longer I ran this school, the more I became utterly sick of the wretched and cantankerous students, their neediness and lack of respect for the rules-"

"Please, Phineas," Snape said irritably, finally looking up from his parchment, "Your constant moanings about the pupils is beginning to get extremely tiresome. You clearly shouldn't have become headmaster. I can't think what possessed you to take up the job."

"Neither can I." Phineas said shortly. "What did the sword mean to you, headmaster? Are you jealous that it came to the Potter boy in the Chamber of Secrets all those years ago? I don't see why you should be so infatuated with it."

"I would not expect you to." Came Snape's curt reply. Not everyone from Slytherin is the same, he thought as he dipped his quill back into the ink bottle set in front of him on the desk.

Snape had enjoyed the return to peace for only a few seconds when there came a loud knock at the office door. He leant back in his chair and sighed with frustration.

"Enter." He said wearily.

Through the door came a pale and terrified looking girl with short, curly brown hair and, stomping behind her came the brutish figure of Amycus Carrow, the Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher and co-head of punishment alongside his sister Alecto. Amycus shoved the girl towards the desk and looked at Snape, a grin on his lumpy face.

"This little brat, Demelza Robins," he wheezed at Snape, "Was just caught writing graffiti on the wall outside the girl's bathroom on the second floor. She was trying to write 'The Carrows are less frightening than Sparrows!' I suggest you punish her as strongly as-"

Snape waved his hand at Amycus, "Yes, thank you. You may leave, Amycus, I'll deal with her."

Amycus looked put out. "The little whelp deserves the strictest discipline for such a disgusting-"

"Get out of my office." Snape said, raising his voice in frustration. "I am the headmaster and I will decide on her punishment."

Amycus' pudgy face reddened with anger and it it seemed for a moment that he was going to step forward and challenge Snape. Before he could speak, however, Snape waylaid him.

"Go back to bed Amycus."

Amycus gave Snape one more contemptuous look and stormed out of the office. Snape put down his quill and looked at Demelza. Her face was streaked with tears and she looked up at Snape shaking. Snape pondered for a minute, letting Demelza stand in front of his desk, her hands knotted in front of her.

"You graffitied the walls Miss Robins?"

Demelza nodded mutely.

"Which walls? Where?"

"Outside the girls' toilets on the second floor, sir." Her voice was little more than a terrified squeak.

Snape smirked, seeing in his mind the message she wrote plastered all over the wall next to Moaning Myrtle's toilet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Demelza tremble. Clearly she had taken his smirk as confirmation of a dreadful punishment about to land on her, the cruciatus curse at the very least. He got up from his desk and moved around towards Demelza. He considered her for a second.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor. If you're brought to my office again for any reason, including insulting my staff, I won't be so lenient. Get back to bed Miss Robins."

Demelza started. She looked up, surprised and confused by the clear lack of the horrendous punishment she had felt sure was coming.

"Are… is that it?" She asked.

Snape looked at her, his eyebrows raised. "Would you prefer a harsher punishment Miss Robins?"

Demelza face reddened, "No… of course not, I just-"

"Get back to bed then. Goodnight."

Still looking confused, Demelza stumbled out of the office and down the spiral stairs.

A silence fell over the room again and Snape wished more than ever that he knew where the pensive was. He resolved to ask Dumbledore's portrait in the morning. He closed his eyes, leaning against the headmaster's desk. His mind wandered back to the scene by the pool in the forest of Dean; what they had done, what they had faced.

"I told you," came a familiar snide voice from behind him. "You've gone soft Snape. I thought so highly of you when the Dark Lord appointed you headmaster-"

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Snape whirled to face Phineas's portrait, snarling. "You think I should have tortured her, here and now in this office?!"

Phineas raised an eyebrow. "Of course not. Do you not remember what Dumbledore said to you in this very room, when he guessed you'd be chosen as headmaster after his death?" Snape didn't say anything, he merely glared at him.

"He told you to protect the students, to do all in your power. You gave your word, headmaster, but you have failed him. You have failed the students; you have done nothing to stop the Carrows terrorising and torturing."

"I-" Snape blustered, but Phineas spoke over him.

"Your excuse, I presume, is that you do not wish the Dark Lord to notice your overt tolerance, am I right? A pitiful excuse." Phineas had dropped his usual voice and had adopted a hard anger that Snape had never heard before. "I make no bones about my loathing of the students who have passed through this school, headmaster, but you have let the Carrows turn this school into a torture chamber."

"I'd rather be a soft headmaster than a bitter, twisted, resentful and malicious headmaster, which all the signs indicate you were, Phineas." Snape snapped at the painting, feeling the anger rise within him. "You are everything about Slytherin that I resent and dislike. You refuse to see the good in people for thinking of others, for helping other people. This world is impossible to navigate if the only thing you seek is self-betterment."

Phineas snorted.

"Don't think I'd rather be in Gryffindor. They're foolish, proud and arrogant. But I am smart enough to see how you have abandoned the students, pretending to 'do your bit' with lenient punishments when the Carrows are chaining students up and performing the unforgivable curses on them…"

"I can't change that!" Snape shouted. "If I did, the Dark Lord would instantly suspect me, think I'd changed sides. I must keep up this pretence until he decides to keep Nagini close by. That's what Dumbledore said, his orders. I've done my bit to help Potter. He has the sword, he has the means to destroy the horcruxes and the Dark Lord is as yet unaware of that. Unless Potter bursts into this very office I can do nothing."

He strode over to Dumbledore's painting and pulled it away to reveal the empty chamber where the sword had so recently resided. He closed his eyes and leant his hands against the stone of the frame, remembering the feel of the sword in his hands as he had stood next to the pool.

"Sometimes I think we sort too soon…"

"If you're right, Phineas, then there must be more I can do. Dumbledore warned against further help but I can't sit here. If you're right that I have failed the students, let them be tortured, denied entry to smuggle-borns and turned Hogwarts into a prison more than a school, then what can I do?"

"What you must." Came a wheezy voice. But it wasn't Phineas, it wasn't even Dumbledore. Snape turned away from the empty hole and looked around. The voice belonged to Armando Dippet. He looked down at Snape with gentle eyes, leaning forward in his winged armchair.

"Yours has not been an easy life, Severus but I trust that you know what is right. I do not agree with Dumbledore that sitting tight is the best course of action. If there is something you can do to discover a horcrux, or, Merlin-willing, destroy one, then I believe the risk of exposure to the Dark Lord is worth it."

Snape nodded his silent thanks at Dippet, who leant back in his chair and regained his comfortable posture. He needed to think. To find the best course of action. Whether to reveal himself to Potter or stay in the shadows. Whether he could master himself and aid the Dark Lord's downfall.


End file.
